


Marks of Ownership

by DracoCustos



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Bondage, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-01
Updated: 2016-08-01
Packaged: 2018-07-28 13:37:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7642744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DracoCustos/pseuds/DracoCustos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inquisitor Lavellan had a rough night. His "good clothes" don't really hide the evidence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Marks of Ownership

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sumi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sumi/gifts).



> Try as I might, I really couldn't manage to get explicit smut to work and be happy with it, and I didn't want to include writing I wasn't happy with. I'm sorry. I hope you enjoy it otherwise though!

A pair of hands found their way out from under the blankets first, the pale brown skin around the slender wrists a mixture of reds, purples, black, and blues, most concentrated closest to the hands and spreading out from there. A pair of citrine eyes blinked open at the stab of pain when they moved, only to smile at the painful bruises left there, moving them to be sure they didn’t affect his range of motion before he let out a yawn. Mahanon ruffled his mousy brown hair with a contented hum, the muscles in his arms sore from his insistence in pulling against the ropes that had bit into his wrists; he didn’t bother trying to extract himself from the sheets, just brought one arm up to his mouth to suck on the rope burn, soothing the ache so that he wouldn’t be tempted to seek out a healer. He let his eyes close as he sucked, the fingers of that hand brushing against the bruises on the other wrist, his mind wandering until he recalled exactly how he’d ended up with such harsh bruises.

 

_Fingers splayed out against his back, holding sturdy rope in place while the other hand pulls, forcing his own together behind his back. The rope digs in hard, bone and skin both protesting it, even as he heard himself beg for more. His only answer was a voice behind him chuckling, and a harder pull on the rope._

 

He stretched his legs, curled his toes, rolled on his back, all while still sucking on his wrist, stopping only long enough to switch out for the other. The moon had long since fallen behind the mountains beyond his window, but the sun had yet to rise over the others, leaving the room almost completely black, with just the promise of dawn behind the mountains. Good, he thought, casting a glance over to his sleeping companion as a wicked smirk crossed his face. He watched his face for a moment, watching for any indication that he was awake, before slipping under the blankets, his elven frame easily fitting between the qunari’s legs as he ran his tongue along his softened cock, beginning at the tip and traveling down to the base. There was no sound from above him, but it began to harden all the same, and Mahanon – the thrill of doing something usually forbidden arrowing straight to his own cock – took it in his mouth, his tongue lathing the underside as he tried and failed to take it all.

Not one to be put off, he wrapped a hand around what wouldn’t fit, stroking in time with the bobbing of his head, the other hand massaging his balls. His own neglected cock protested, but Mahanon paid it no mind, so focused on his task that he didn’t notice the hand until it was pushing on the back of his head, forcing him to adjust to take more of it in his mouth. He retched and pulled back, the hand moving to let him do so, taking several deep breaths before he let his eyes meet the qunari’s.

“Someone forgot the rules this morning.” A shiver went down his spine, but it had nothing to do with fear, and everything to do with the excitement that came with knowing exactly what was in store for him. One big hand closed around his forearm, forcing him around and down until his chest was pressed to the mattress, his ass still up in the air, a reddish-purple handprint clearly visible across both cheeks. Mahanon bit his lip in anticipation of what he expected to come next, but when it didn’t come, he risked a glance back, his hair covering his eyes enough that he was sure he got away with it.

Bull had reached for the oil they’d left on the bedside table, his fingers already coated in the stuff as he thumbed the cork back into the bottle, lone eye tracing the bruises and rope marks he’d left behind the night before. Not all of them would be able to be hidden by his clothes, he noticed, and took a mental note to be sure that didn’t happen again. He doubted he would remember next time it was relevant.

 

_“Know your limits, kadan,” he said with the same chuckle, giving the elf a firm smack on the ass as he finished tying off the rope. The whine he gave caused Bull’s cock to twitch, so he did it again, and again, ensuring each blow landed equally across both cheeks. By the time his hand stung enough to quit, the elf laying in front of him had been reduced to a whimpering mess, trying to rut against the sheets just so he could have some kind of contact._

 

Mahanon regarded the ache in his wrists again, the ghost of a smirk on his face as he realized that he would be hurting in many more places before the sun came up.

 

Bull had been right – once he’d begun to dress himself for his morning with the nobles, Mahanon had realized that his good clothes, as Josephine had called them while he’d complained endlessly about needing to be fitted for them, did not cover the evidence that the Inquisitor had a bedmate. He moved his arms in certain ways, and the marks on his wrists became glaringly obvious. Looking up, as he would have to do to greet most of the guests, all of whom were human and the majority of which were male, revealed the couple of teeth marks left on his neck, one still an angry red instead of the much more faded black and blue of the others. Once finished dressing, he had simply shrugged at them, kissed the qunari goodbye, and wandered into the entry hall to wait to greet his guests.

The whispering started almost immediately, followed by a firm glare from Cullen, and a not-so-subtle attempt to accessorize from Josephine and Leliana, which only managed to draw attention to the fact he was hiding something around his neck.

“How does someone manage to return from hunting demons without so much as a scratch on them, only to leave their bed chambers looking like _this_?” Cullen hissed at them, watching Mahanon roll his eyes.

“Dear boy, try not to ask questions you don’t really want the answers to.”


End file.
